


the birthday

by bluebeholder



Series: the accidental epic [22]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Birthday Cake, Fluff, M/M, Mild Angst, Some Family Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-11 01:28:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12311943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebeholder/pseuds/bluebeholder
Summary: It's Credence's twenty-fifth birthday, which warrants something special. Graves is more than happy to provide.





	the birthday

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this originally for tumblr but I felt like it deserved its own entry in the series. We're backtracking a bit here (if you're reading this in order of posting rather than chronologically), but I think that's okay. My birthday was last week, and there's been a lot of Fandom Drama this past week (which nearly resulted multiple times in me deleting my AO3 page, I am not afraid to admit), and...this is highly cathartic. 
> 
> I hope that it brings you some good feelings. <3<3<3

“But you don’t bake,” Credence protests. 

“I can produce edibles, you know,” Graves says, glancing at Credence. 

Credence is eyeing him like he’s lost his mind. “I do most of the cooking.”

“Technicality.”

“Should I prepare to put out a fire?”

Graves turns and gives Credence a look. “I survived perfectly well before you came along to help me.”

“You lived on toast.”

“Irrelevant.”

Graves ignores anything else that Credence says after that in favor of getting to work baking a cake. It’s not that hard, all things considered–especially when he’d sent for Jacob’s recipe for pineapple upside-down cake, which is the food of kings and angels. 

It’s just Graves and Credence in the house, of course, so there won’t be a real party. Newt and Tina are, according to Tina’s last letter, in Japan; Queenie and Jacob are of course in Diagon Alley. But they’ve each sent Credence something small, something to celebrate his twenty-fifth birthday. 

“Do you feel any different?” Graves asks, sitting down with Credence in the library while the cake is baking. 

“How do you mean?”

Graves shrugs. “Since your last birthday?”

Credence leans back and sighs, looking up at the ceiling. “I mean…my last birthday was…I think it was in China? I was so distracted, though.”

“Understandable.” Graves looks Credence up and down. He certainly looks different, in Graves’ eyes: happier and more confident than ever before. 

“I do feel different, though,” Credence says. “A good different. I know myself a little better, I think. Doors slamming don’t scare me anymore, I don’t have to ask permission to do everything, I’m not afraid of my own shadow…”

This is all true, and Graves smiles. “Good.”

“It’s not as though I woke up one day a different person,” Credence says. He looks at Graves with a small smile. “Or maybe I did, and I just didn’t think of it until now.” 

“You’re perfect, as far as I’m concerned,” Graves says. 

Credence scoffs. “I’m far from perfect,” he says. “Just…getting better.”

That’s undeniable, so Graves doesn’t refute it. He holds out one arm, an invitation, and Credence dives in to fit himself against Graves’ side. It’s so familiar and right that Graves almost aches with it. They sit there for a long time, lost in their own thoughts, until the kitchen timer begins to chime and Graves gets up to take care of the cake. 

Credence sits at the table and cheers Graves on as he tentatively conducts the necessary flipping of the skillet. By an absolute miracle it comes out right. Graves finishes it with the maraschino cherries and cuts them both a slice. The sound Credence makes when he takes the first bite of his slice is damn near unholy. There’s a specific birthday present he’s getting from Graves later tonight, and hopefully there will be many more similar sounds. 

Obviously Credence knows exactly what he’s doing, because he smirks and repeats his performance with the second bite. Graves kicks him lightly on the shin–“Stop it, or we’ll get distracted”–and Credence rolls his eyes, but complies. He turns bright red and hides his face in his hands when Graves tries his rendition of the birthday song, which he thinks isn’t too bad, and is enough to make Credence smile. 

Presents from the rest of the family are small and tasteful. Newt sent a beautiful journal from France (“for writings that you don’t want anyone else to read”), Tina a Box of Never-Ending Chocolates (“so you have something to eat when you’re up pacing all night”), and Queenie a pair of handmade enchanted gloves (“because I know you keep forgetting to wear them outside”). It’s Jacob who sends what might be the best of all: a No-Maj pocket watch which, he says, “belonged to my father, who gave it to me on my twenty-fifth birthday”. 

“He’s only just thirty-three,” Credence says, looking up from the watch. “So why give it to me now?”

“I think you know why,” Graves says. 

Credence swallows hard and looks down at the watch. “I do,” he says softly. 

Graves Summons his own wrapped package from where it’s been lurking for weeks. Credence stares at him like he’s lost his mind when he holds it out. “Before you protest that I’ve already given you enough, just…hear me out,” Graves says. “Go on and open it.”

Slowly, Credence does. He folds the plain brown wrapping paper and sets it aside before opening the book inside. Graves smiles fondly when he sees it, with its battered cover and water-stained pages, dog-eared and spine-cracked, so familiar. “…this is yours,” Credence says after a moment, looking up from the title page. “Your name.”

“Yes,” Graves says. “It was my textbook from when I started Auror Training. I was a studious, neurotic kid, so…I wrote on every single page. Notes. Reminders. Sometimes I managed to sketch things.”

Credence slowly pages through the book. “How long did you have it?” 

“Oh, I was referencing it until I became a Senior Auror,” Graves says with a smile. “Saved my life, a time or two. I know you’re interested in learning more about all of this stuff, and I thought…”

“Are you sure?” Credence asks. He looks like he’s been set adrift.

Graves leans forward and turns to the end of the book, to the very last page. “I thought you might want it,” he says, pointing to several lines scrawled on the blank page. The first is in a harried, nervous hand, his writing from when he was still younger than Credence; the rest is in his mature handwriting, careful script that was meant for writing reports to Congress and the President, now turned to writing a love letter.

_You can’t cast a spell without believing that you can do it. –Director Dresden 1909  
_

_I hope that this book can teach you things–new for you, perhaps unexpected, hopefully useful. Things I might have forgotten and won’t be able to teach you. And even if it can’t, I want to remind you that I believe in you, absolutely, now and forever. My greatest hope for you as you look toward your future is that you will someday be able to believe in yourself. With all my love–Percival Graves, 1928_

Credence’s hand closes around Graves’. “Thank you,” he says simply. His eyes say all the things that he can’t seem to say aloud, and Graves is fine with that. He understands. For the first time in his life, Credence is allowed to look to his future. Even if it’s a strange precipice, he’s ready to take the plunge. 

A future: the best birthday gift of all.

**Author's Note:**

> THERE IS RESEARCH EVEN HERE IN A FIC MEANT SOLELY FOR CATHARSIS. The Happy Birthday song has been around in its modern form since at least 1912, if not before. Nice! And pineapple upside-down cake came into being in the 1920s at some point, though its true origin is not known. It is perfectly plausible that someone would make this, and if you'd like to follow along with the recipe, [you can find it here, courtesy of King Arthur Flour](http://blog.kingarthurflour.com/2015/03/09/american-baking-decades-1920-1929/). (No sponsorship, just credit where it's due!)


End file.
